Dragon Age: Daggers of Nightfall
by DarowdrynofArcadia
Summary: Isabela meets a woman she thought couldn't really exist, a temptress capable of setting her adrift in a world she thought she knew. She wants her, even needs her, but is it enough to get her to overcome her fear of loving and being loved? Rated M for violence, some raunchy language, and interesting encounters.


**A/N: **So... I know that everyone is liking what I'm writing with HG, but I'm also playing Dragon Age II right now and I have a ship for a woman without a ship. Literal ship, I mean. :P In other words, Isabella! With Hawke, of COURSE, because what the fuck else, right? No Leliana here, so I can't do a harem or Isaliana thing, but I will still keep to what I always write, which is fun times with snark. Also, this is pretty much where half of my playthroughs keep ending up. I love Isabella, and Hawke makes her feel like a woman again(just like she makes Hawke feel like a woman... ;)). Anyway...

* * *

She's heard a lot about the people in this city. There's the dwarf merchant with more greed than sense, a man who has been trying to get an expedition together to go to the Deep Roads for the better part of a year. No one will hire on with him, no one is investing in his venture, and no one even knows where to go anyway. He'd have better luck if someone would just fall into his lap with a map and sack of gold, but... it won't be her. He disgusts her. There's his brother, a much more tolerable dwarf who is mostly cleanshaven but has the most _delightful_ shag of chest hair. Ooo, she just wants to run her hands through it... There's the hard-headed woman who is actually one of the good and honest guards in the city. She'd like her a bit more if the lady would drop the armor for a moment and relax, sit back and have a drink, maybe a tumble. There's the pretty princeling with his quest for vengeance, but he's so focused that there's really no way to even get through the thick skin he's grown. Besides, she's heard that he has a vow of chastity or something of the sort.

Then... There's the woman that ties them all together. One woman normally wouldn't make that much of a difference, but this one is special. She's a Ferelden refugee, and the stories that she's heard paint her as a quick-witted, intelligent, and very ginger heartbreaker with a fetish for knives. When she came to this city, she was running from the Blight with nothing but the clothes on her back, a mother who was fallen nobility, a sister who was an apostate hiding from the Templars, and a serious case of survivor's guilt. Her brother had died a month before fighting darkspawn, and she didn't do well afterwards. Still, she had a friend in the future guardswoman, and she had a family still. If her uncle hadn't pissed away the fortune that was rightfully her mother's, they'd even have had money and an estate to return to. Instead, she and her sister were sold into indentured servitude for a year, working for an elvish smuggler named Athenril.

They did their time, and in so doing, they made a name for themselves. The name Hawke was whispered about the hidden undercircles of Kirkwall, sometimes in awe, sometimes in fear, but most times in jealousy. She was everything that Kirkwallers in Lowtown wanted to be: Beautiful, strong, smart, and just charming enough to be deadly. When she was coming, you gave her the goods and got out of her way, and anyone that tried to stop her or steal from Athenril, even Coterie thugs, just disappeared. The fact that her sister was always with her, just behind and always watching, didn't go unnoticed either. There were whispers that the sister was just as dangerous, that sometimes Hawke wouldn't notice someone coming up behind her or she'd get overwhelmed, only for a fireball or a bolt of lightning to even the field again. And every time, when the Templars showed up to investigate, the sisters were long gone, fading back into the streets and the undercity.

And tonight? Well, tonight she's supposed to be coming down to the Hanged Man, the favored tavern and living quarters of a certain dwarf acquaintance. This is a perfect opportunity to meet the woman who has stirred up such a buzz, not to mention created quite a rumor mill about her attractiveness. If the rumors are false, well that's the way of rumors, but if the rumors are true... Well, if the rumors are true, then she's in a lot of trouble. They both are. Taking a deep breath, Isabella pushes open the doors of the tavern and steps inside, resolving to wait for the woman who has taken the city by storm.

* * *

I know who I am, and I know what I am. I'm a bloody pirate, and a scoundrel, temptress, thief, duelist, perhaps a bit of a nymph, and a prankster. I am who I am, but there seems to be something that so many people don't understand about me. Just because I'm a pirate and a criminal(sort of, I mean those jewels were just so pretty, and that noblewoman's corset? Well, she couldn't wear it properly anyway.) does not mean that I am horrible person without morals or scruples. I do have standards, and I do have limits. One of those limits is no sodding slaves, which is why I'm in trouble right now. Here, let me explain.

I, like the woman I am here hoping to meet tonight, have made my living as a smuggler in the past. I used to work for a man named Castillon, an Orlesian pig with a severe lack of decorum and class despite what he believes of himself. He is still the same crime boss I contracted with, which is also part of why I'm in trouble, because I took a cargo for him that turned out to be less valuables and more slaves. Like I've already mentioned, I don't do slaves, so that was a rather big issue for me. I, erm... "lost" the cargo of monetized human flesh, by which I mean I found them an abandoned stretch of coast reasonably close to civilization and I turned them loose. I don't know what happened to them after that, but I assume that most of them managed to make it to safety and a new life, and that's what I tell myself so I can sleep at night. That, and _'Oh Isabella, you're the most beautiful maiden the sea has ever been graced to support. The oceans of the world should feel privileged to have had you traverse them.'_ Anyway, I let the slaves go, and Castillon was not happy about it. He gave me a chance to redeem myself though, saying all I had to do was steal this relic from these people who didn't want to give it up, and all would be forgiven. Just my rotten luck however, I steal the damn thing and they chase me, right into the teeth of a storm that wrecks both of our ships and takes the thrice-damned relic down with them.

Now I'm being dogged by one of Castillon's men, a crass thug named Hayder who has no appreciation for the finer things in life, particularly my sexy arse. I'm getting tired of him, or to be honest I've already gotten tired of him and challenged him to a duel, but I don't trust him to play by the rules. I may be a pirate and a trickster, but a duel is a duel, and there are rules that must be followed. Specifically, single-person combat and no interference from outside sources. Hayder knows that, and he also knows that in all of Antiva and Ferelden, there isn't a duelist who can claim to have won as many fights as I have. There simply isn't anyone better, at least not that I've met, and that's a problem for him, so I don't trust him to do the single combat thing. So, I'm here in this tavern hoping to stumble into just the right backup, only to run into some of Hayder's boys.

I'm minding my own business, ignoring everyone here just the way I have been for weeks now. I bought myself time when I made the challenge, got a couple extra weeks to either find the relic or find some help, and now that the time is over I need to find the help because I still don't have the relic. I hear the steps behind me and I know what they mean. From the number of feet hitting the floorboards, there are three to four men, and from the sound they're making, they are used to being on land wearing no armor and carrying only the weapons they use. They never learned how to sneak, and they don't move with the spring of someone used to wearing too much metal, so they clunk around a lot. They also don't have the shifty movements of people who are used to using more than one plaything, and for Hayder's thugs that means it can only be Lucky and his misfits. When he opens his mouth, his stupidity proves me right.

"Where's the relic Isabella? The boss is getting impatient." Andraste's tits, but he sounds so uncultured. How did he survive childhood? "Oh, I don't know Lucky," I reply with a smile that I only keep because I'm looking at a bottle of Antivan whiskey I'm fairly certain I acquired for the tavernkeeper. "Perhaps it got up and walked away. I certainly haven't seen it since the last time I saw it." From the stuttering coming from behind me, Lucky doesn't know how to take what I just said. I hope that it's enough to get him to go away, but he's just too persistently idiotic to do something so sensible. I feel his heavy hand drop onto my shoulder and try to turn me about as he growls at me, "Come wif me then, we're gonna go see the boss and he's going to _make_ you pay up on your debts." I can smell the cheap ale on his breath and it does nothing for my constitution, but I know something that should fix it. Of course, the smile I've kept on my face becomes truly genuine when I see someone walk into the establishment behind him.

I'm trying to not look at him unless necessary, and thank the Maker for that, because I see a stunner with fiery red hair and pale blue-green eyes walk in. I never would have guessed a natural ginger could actually tan, but her skin is a light gold and there isn't a freckle to be seen, at least not at this distance. Oh, but she is beautiful, and just seeing the amusement light her face makes my knees weak with desire. Don't get me wrong, I'm not going to drag feelings into this and say that this is love at first sight, but I can tell you that I am damn near _radiating_ lust for her. There are other things to interest me, like the weapons she carries on her back, but I still have Lucky to deal with. "Oh Lucky, I guess it's just not your lucky day." I hate the corny wordplay, but oh well. I smash a tankard over his head to make up for it and punch one of his friends to start the party. I think they forget that I'm used to being on a ship, so it's really too simple to drop to the floor in a backbend to avoid a swung chair, or to grab one of the fallen legs as I stand back up to cudgel them about the head. Lucky's compatriots fall in seconds, but he's just too stubborn. He tries to draw his sword, and only the fact that one of my daggers is at his throat in the time it takes him to blink stops him. "Now Lucky, I want you to think long and hard about this. Are a few coppers worth the incredible likelihood of you dying here as a bunch of drunks watch in mild fascination? If not, I suggest you grab your boys and go."

For several long seconds, he stands there looking uncertain before he sprints for the door, actually shoving his men out of the way while trying to be the first one out. I smile and put my dagger back in its sheath on my back, turn back to the bar, and drink. I know she's walking up behind me, I can hear it but only just, yet I still try to play it off. I can't let her know how much I want her to say yes to what I'm about to ask.


End file.
